


your cocaine kiss and caffeine love

by notthebigspoon



Category: Baseball RPF, National Football League RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is why drinking is a sin, Tim thinks. You wake up in bed with someone you don't know. A male someone you don't know. He wants to cry. </p><p>Title taken from Creepin' by Eric Church.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your cocaine kiss and caffeine love

**Author's Note:**

> It's okay. You can judge me. I'm judging me too.

This is why drinking is a sin, Tim thinks. You wake up in bed with someone you don't know. A male someone you don't know. He wants to cry. 

He presses a hand to his mouth to stifle the hyperventilating, staring at the body next to him. There's a broad expanse of back, his bed partner face down in a pillow and apparently sleeping soundly. The sheets don't quite cover the curve of the man's ass and Tim feels a flood of the feelings that he'd shoved down since he was a teenager because he's a good Christian man and good Christian men don't want other men. He's tried so hard to not feel this way.

He's a football player. Football players drink, it's just one of those things, part of the culture, even though Tim's never taken part. After a particularly bad day though, he'd thought that it wouldn't hurt to just have a couple shots. Relax, unwind, it always seemed to make his teammates feel better. He'd slipped off on his own, ducked into the first bar he came to with a hat pulled down over his eyes. He only remembers a few shots and then a smug smile on a face that was kind of familiar. It goes dark after that, just flashes of memory, someone's nails digging into his shoulders, the feeling of something tight and hot and amazing, lush lips against his own and the feeling that he'd finally found what he was missing.

But that wasn't supposed to happen. It's _wrong_. He eases off the bed as carefully as he can, not wanting to wake the other man. He creeps around the room, picking out his own clothing from the scattered articles, slipping his boxers and jeans on before starting to tug on his shirt. He hears a rustling and a groan and he freezes, unable to move or look away from the man on the bed. The guy's arm comes up and his hand clamps over his eyes.

“Fuck... fucking whiskey, never again. Until the next time.” The guy groans. There's a drawl to his voice that warms Tim again and he tries not to scream. He just wants these feelings to go away and they won't. The guy rolls and sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist, just barely covering him. There's a lazy, sleepy smile on his face. Fuck. Of course. Fucking Buster Posey. That's who Tim would have a sexuality crisis with. Fuck. “Mmmph. Leaving?”

“I...” Tim starts and he swallows hard, forcing down the lump of emotion in his throat. He's never hated himself so much.

It must show on his face because Posey frowns. “Hey... you okay?”

No. He's not. Because he drank and he slept with a man and now he's swearing uncontrollably in his head. He's probably going to hell now. He doesn't think God will forgive this. Tim just forcibly nods and tugs his t-shirt over his head before pulling his overshirt on, hands shaking as he tries to button it. He gives up and drops his hands, taking a deep breath and trying not to cry. This isn't happening, not to him.

“C'mere.”

Tim doesn't know why he takes the hand that Posey holds out to him, when he's trying to convince himself that he can forget about this and pretend it never happened and that God will forgive him for the biggest sin he's ever committed. But he does, letting Posey squeeze his hand and tug him to sit on the bed. He doesn't look up from his knees, not until he feels Posey's fingertips pressing against his jaw and turning his head, feels those lips press against his again. Even if it's wrong, it feels so good. Tim stifles a sob.

It doesn't seem to bother Posey, who just keeps kissing him, hands petting through Tim's hair and stroking over his body, every touch soothing and relaxing Tim's tense muscles. He tries to tell himself this is wrong and that he should stop but it's getting harder and harder to remember that ti's not okay. Before he knows it, he's stretched out lengthwise across Posey, hands gripping his hips, their bodies pressed flush together. He's struck with more memories of the night before and he shakes his head hard, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead to Posey's shoulder.

“This is wrong.” Tim whispers.

Posey only laughs, carding his hand through Tim's hair again. “You're cute but you're kinda stupid too.”

“Yeah? How's that?”

“God doesn't hate. He loves, unconditionally. You tell people that all the time, yet you don't believe it about yourself.”

He's not wrong. But Tim doesn't know how to explain that he's been told his whole life that it's a sin, that it's wrong and disgusting and immoral and he's never been able to face this part of himself without feeling sick and ashamed. Then again, Posey's from Georgia. He probably knows exactly how Tim feels. Tim tries to speak but he can't find the words. It doesn't seem to bother Posey though, who just smiles and rolls Tim onto his back in one easy motion. He looks down at Tim, like he's searching for something before smiling, kissing Tim hard.

“I know you don't have anywhere to be. Stay.”

Tim wants to say no. He wants to tell Posey that he can't, that none of this is okay, they shouldn't have done it and it'll be better if they just never see each other again. He wants to go back to pretending that he's normal, that he's never had an unnatural thought in his life. But there's something about the way Posey says what he says, the way he touches Tim, that makes Tim think that maybe everything he's ever been told is wrong. That it's actually okay, that he's not a hopeless sinner and that he's not going to hell.

He looks up at Posey and nods, slowly, melting into it when Posey kisses him again. He doesn't have to be anywhere until tomorrow. The world can wait.


End file.
